


record holder

by honey_sweet



Series: haikyuu fics [6]
Category: haikyuu
Genre: Coworkers - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Interns & Internships, Music Studio, Musician Semi, Pining, Post-Timeskip, timeskip semi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_sweet/pseuds/honey_sweet
Summary: semi finds himself pining for the intern. its a shame he has no skill with talking to women.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Reader
Series: haikyuu fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121123
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	record holder

**Author's Note:**

> im obsessed with timeskip semi for some reason  
> maybe ill make this into a series similar to the kuroo one who knows

You opened the door to the building, stepping into the extremely cramped antechamber before striding through to the studio. Semi had been waiting for you to show up, but he would never openly admit it because that would just be embarrassing.

You strode with a purpose, shutting the door behind you and with some polite greetings to the band members strewn around the main room, you headed for the small staff office and disappeared from his view. That was how it went, usually. You had spoken to him a few times, brought him tea to the mixing desk, set up equipment for him before he arrived, and been one of the last people out the door on his long evenings. You didn’t completely ignore him, but your paths almost never crossed despite working in the same building as him for the last few weeks.

The studio was a small, cramped building in the business district. Two floors, cramped rooms and bare brickwork in the single unisex toilet stall. A tiny ‘kitchen’ with only a kettle and a microwave at either side of an ancient fridge, cracked leather couches and several loose coat hooks on the wall by the entrance. It wasn’t flashy - a small studio space, a mixing room no bigger than an en suite bathroom and an office only wide enough for a single desk and a filing cabinet. But to Semi, it was his second home.

His manager walked out of the office as you arrived, and Semi rolled his head over the back of the leather sofa he was sprawled across to look what was going on. From his upside down view, the band’s manager was holding out some files for you to take, while heading over for the men present. And so that was the last Semi saw of you that day, as he was whisked off back into the studio to write with his band mates.

***

You were a record holder in the studio. The main area had a large whiteboard hanging off the wall, and in smudged marker pen your name was at the top of the ‘longest working intern’ list. The drummer had come over to you, smiling and throwing his arm around you as you stacked sheet music and receipts for equipment.

“Congratulations!” He yelled, steering you out of your tiny office by the shoulders.

“What for?” You laughed, feeling a small bundle of nerves build up inside you. Surprises were not your favourite thing ever.

“You,” He began, pushing you gently to sit on one of the ancient leather recliners beside Semi.

“Are the longest working intern we have ever had!” He laughed, pointing at the ‘4 months’ scrawled beside your name.

You burst out laughing. “How low are your standards?”

“Exceptionally, considering we play at underground bars for a living.” Smirked the guitarist with dark brown hair who you very _rarely_ saw around.

“I mean most of them got fired for breaking equipment or trying to sleep with one of us, so, clearly our standards are low.” The drummer joked. You laughed again, a blush slowly creeping up your neck at the mention of sleeping with the band members. You tried not to look in Semi’s direction.

“Shouldn’t you guys be rehearsing today?” You ask, glancing at the schedule stuck to the whiteboard.

“Eh, Miyamizu isn’t here. He can’t get mad at us if he doesn’t know.” Semi lazily waved his hand at you with a grin. You hummed at him, raising an eyebrow questioningly. “I’m joking. We took a break to congratulate you on making it past four whole months in the studio.” He added on.

“Well, since I’m in charge when Miyamizu isn’t here, you go get yourself back into that studio. We both have work to do.” You grinned, pushing him by the shoulder. He just laughed, standing up and making a show of sighing and walking out of the room. You just sat on the sofa for a moment longer, thinking of how rare it was you saw him smile like that. Maybe if you didn’t avoid him out of nervousness you’d get to see it more often.

Upon returning to the tiny office you pretty much lived in, you continue to slot away the mess of papers on your desk when the phone started ringing. You picked it up, aware that for the last few weeks you’d been diligently putting out adverts and contacting other bands for some form of opening slot your band could play. You paused after answering the phone. _Your band_. That was an odd thought, but it was technically true. Miyamizu was just the manager of the recording company, he simply dropped by on occasion and worked between several different locations with several different bands. You were the staple, you stayed with Semi’s band every day, working for them as some form of elaborate secretary and technician.

“Hello?” Came the other end of the receiver.

“Oh yes- hello. Sorry. I’m all over the place today, how can I help you?” You answer, dropping into your chair and taking up a pen idly in your hand.

At that moment, Semi opened the door to the office gently, opening his mouth to mention something but he promptly shut it again when he saw your expression. He simply slid inside the room, leaning against the filing cabinet as he waited for your call to finish. He was somewhat confused what you were scribbling away at on your notepad and thanking the other person on the end of the line. Unless- You slammed the phone down with a joyous laugh, pushing yourself out of the chair suddenly. The old wood joints groaned under the weight shift as you tore the page from your notes and waved it at Semi standing barely two meters away.

“What was all that about?” He smiled, folding his arms.

“Oh nothing,” You smile back nonchalantly. “Just a booking as the opening slot downtown...”

“Wait - if its the one I think you mean then we’ve been trying to get that for months....” He gasped, unfolding his arms and pushing himself off the bookcase.

“And now we have it.” You reply, showing him the paper. He grabbed it from your hands, examining it greedily, and he broke out into an ecstatic grin. Without thinking, he threw his arms around your shoulders.

“You are the best manager we’ve ever had,” and suddenly gave you a fleeting kiss. You blushed fiercely, emotions all over the place, and didn’t know what to do. Semi seemed equally as embarrassed, and retracted his arms instantly.

“I don’t ... I’m sorry.” He stuttered, unsure what to do with his hands and the crumpled sheet of notepaper in his sweating palm.

“No, no it’s okay.” You laughed timidly to alleviate the tension. After that you didn’t really speak much.

***

Semi still stewed in his thoughts about that moment, even several weeks later. Even after he played the upscaled set you managed to book for them, even after he went for celebration drinks with the band. Even when he had taken a girl home as a distraction, feeling sorry for himself. Even when he had called her your name by accident in the midst of it, and she had slapped him and walked out of his apartment. That was when he realised he’d fucked up. He wanted to do something, but the last time he did something he’d made it awkward. He should have left it at the hug, thanked you sincerely and left. Now you would barely look at him, and conversations were tense and short.

The date at the side of your name on the whiteboard only continued to build, and by summer you were the first intern to ever work there for 6 months. But Semi had still got no closer to normal with you. His band mates had picked up on it, from the first day the university student waltzed into the building with her ripped jeans and leather boots, from when she would be sitting in the office booking them gigs, to when she would talk with the band as she completed University assignments over coffee. Semi had been enamoured, and with his first chance he had made your professional relationship complicated.

One day, Semi had been building up the confidence to apologise, and he was mulling over if it was too little too late when you had come out of your office. He startled, not thinking anyone else was in the building besides himself.

“Did I scare you?” You ask, heading over to the kitchen.

“No... uh. No. I just didn’t know anyone was here.” He replied as he followed you into the small room.

“Would you like a drink?” You asked, somewhat too formally for his liking considering a few weeks ago you were like close friends.

“Yes please.” He said, and you were both enveloped in the sound of the kettle boiling, nobody speaking.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” He commented out of nowhere, nodding towards your bare arms in the summer heat. You startled, not expecting him to say anything.

“Oh - yeah. I have more than this.” You said, stretching your arms out to show him. There were an assortment of small words, intricate line-work, interweaved patterns and illustrations of flowers littering your arms.

“They suit you.” He added, trying to resist the urge to touch your arms and feel how soft the skin really was. Things were somewhat better after that. You would at least hold a conversation with him when you were alone.

***

Semi wanted more. Specifically, he wanted you, but he weighed up in his head if it really was worth potentially running your professional relationship by doing something stupid like asking you to dinner. Your name now had a whole year beside it. And Semi was growing impatient simply watching the object of his affections every day without saying anything. Not to mention he hadn’t had any action in months and was getting more and more frustrated by the passing day whenever he saw your tattooed arms or when he once saw you take your jumper off over your head and it offered him a glimpse of your lower stomach that fed his fantasies for a while longer.

He knew he couldn’t mention it to the rest of his band because they’d laugh at him for being a schoolboy chasing after his coworker. He knew it was true and he didn’t need them to confirm it. His resolve to keep things professional broke in the autumn. He’d been working later and later into the nights just to get some new pieces for their upcoming EP. You’d started staying in the studio with him, no matter how late he was, just so he wasn’t alone. Semi hadn’t failed to notice.

Things were still tinged in an odd cloud of tension every so often, but it would begin to melt away slowly after a few hours. One night in particular, Semi had stayed extraordinarily late. It was past midnight when he finally gathered his things, and he was fully expecting the common room to be completely empty when he entered. But you were still there too. The dented, chipped coffee table was strewn with your notebooks, handwriting covering every square inch of exposed paper as you fought your way through your thesis for your final year. And in the middle of it all, Semi saw you had fallen asleep on the cracked sofa, boots kicked off and jacket covering your bare shoulders as a makeshift blanket. He shrugged his coat on, letting his keys slide back into his pocket and admiring the scene for a moment longer before heading to wake you up. Gently, he crouched before you and shook your shoulder while mumbling your name.

“Hey, it’s late. I think you should go home.” He whispered.

“How late?” You sigh back, barely opening your eyes and shrugging the jacket closer to your ears.

“Like really late. Almost two in the morning.” He smiled, watching you frown at being woken up. You groaned, stretching and trying to not let your eyes slip closed again.

“At this point I might as well sleep here.” You groaned, sitting up and letting the jacket drop from you. You shivered at the cold air of the night chilling the room significantly. Semi laughed light heartedly, moving to close your notebooks while you got a bearing on your surroundings. He stacked them on the table and went to make sure the lights were off in your office. When he had returned you had shoved your books back into your bag and were lacing up your shoes to leave.

“Let me walk you home,” He said, closing the office door and heading over to the main entrance.

“No - it’s okay I can make it back. Afraid I’ll be too tired and take a nap on the way?” You joked.

“More worried what someone will do to a woman walking alone at 2am on a Friday night.” He stated. You sighed, conceding that he had a point. Once the studio had been locked up properly, you led him on your way home. It was pitch black, and freezing cold. The sky was cloudless and the streetlights threw odd shadows around so it looked like normal objects had been replaced with slightly more sinister versions of themselves in the darkness. Semi shoved his hands into his pockets, shuffling along the street beside you trying to think of some small talk to make.

“How far away do you live, then?” You asked, breaking the silence for him.

“The other side of town, I just get the train to the end of the line and walk a little further.” He replied, fiddling with his keys in his pocket. You stopped dead in your tracks in front of a tall apartment building which Semi was guessing was yours.

“Really? I can’t let you walk all the way back.” You said, pulling your own keys out. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

Semi just shrugged. “It’s not so bad, I’m sure I’ll live.” He smiled.

“You can crash here,” You suggest, opening the door and gesturing for him to follow you inside. He shot you a flustered expression which you didn’t think you’d ever seen him display before.

“There’s a guest room that nobody has ever used. It’s better than walking all the way back when I have a perfectly good room going spare.” You explained.

Semi conceded, sighing and following you in, trying to quell the panicked heart rate he had hammering inside his chest.

“I’ll get you some bedding if you want to go take a shower or something,” You yawn, flicking the light to your living room on. After pointing him in the direction of your bathroom and hanging up his coat, you headed to tidy up the mess you’d made in the guest room by just storing things like University folders and an old guitar. The shelves were dusty and the bed was bare, but you had some boxes lying around with textbooks and files that you thought would come in handy but never did. You threw covers on the bedding as quick as possible, desperate to get into your own bed as soon as you could. Semi returned from the shower, wearing only the loose shirt and boxers he’d had with him. His jeans were in his hand, clearly not intended to sleep in.

“All yours, Semi,” You yawn, pushing him towards his bedroom.

“Call me Eita.” You heard him reply quietly before he collapsed into the guest bed.

***

“You going to write a song about it, huh Semi?” The drummer goaded. Semi was regretting telling them anything about him staying at yours the night before.

“I walked her home and slept in the guest room. Nothing happened.” He said, frustratedly picking at the flaking leather of his chair. The conversation had been like this for a solid hour now, them ribbing him about pining for you and not making any moves. He hated how accurate their teasing was.

“He’ll still write a song about it.” The guitarist mumbled between scrolling on his phone. “He’s been writing songs about his unrequited love since the summer.” Semi flushed with embarrassment, knowing that he had started writing more songs about you since the brief office kiss you shared. He still cringed to think about it.

“That’s not true.” He mumbled, blushing angrily. But it was true. Just before anybody else could open their mouths to rile him up even more, you arrived, looking like you’d not actually got any sleep.

“You’re late,” The drummer grinned, ignoring the dark circles under your eyes.

“Forgive me for attending my lectures.” You snapped back, not in the mood for any teasing.

“Someone seems grumpy. Did you keep her busy all night, Semi?”

“You’re a fucking asshole. I already told you that nothing happened.” Semi growled back, trying to keep his demeanour as calm as possible.

“I’m just having fun.” The other man replied. “I’m sure you had fun yesterday too didn’t you?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively. The thing about Semi’s drummer was that he was annoying to a fault and loved nothing more than riling people up. He wasn’t malicious, he just really really enjoyed getting on other’s nerves for the reactions it got him. You dropped your bag with a sigh and walked over to the drummer’s position on the sofa. Leaning on the arm of the seat, you levelled your tired stare at him as best you can.

“If you have nothing better to do than discuss my sex life I’m sure that means your recording is done for Miyamizu to hear. I’d be glad to send it off right now.”

He paled, shifting in his chair. “I mean ... it’s almost done...”

“So why don’t you get in the studio and stop fantasising about who I fuck in my spare time.” You stated, level tone brimming with annoyance. He sulked off to the studio, tail between his legs and a quiet apology being mumbled as he went. You sank into the vacated seat with a gruff sigh and rubbed tiredly at your sunken, exhausted eyes.

“You really need to go home earlier.” Semi said, observing how shattered you seemed.

“Yeah well, I don’t make good life choices.” You grumbled back.

“We’ll survive without you, go home and get some sleep.” The guitarist said, pocketing his phone and heading into the studio.

“He’s right.” Semi said, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m sorry if he pissed you off.” He added, quieter.

“I know he doesn’t mean to be an asshole.” You shrugged back. Semi laughed, standing up and patting you on the shoulder.

“He probably doesn’t. But you should go home regardless. Go sleep.” He instructed, ushering you towards the door.

“Please don’t break anything, Eita.” You grumbled back, heading home.

“I’ll try.” He laughed in response. He was filled with an odd warmth that you remembered him telling you to call him Eita the night before.

***

You woke up intermittently from your dozing, trying not to mess up your sleep pattern too much. The last time you woke up from your short slumber, you checked your phone to find a string of messages from an unknown number.

_**Maybe: Eita** _

_**Hey - this is Eita ... please don’t think I’m creepy but I got your number from the staff contacts in the office...** _

_**That sounds creepy doesn’t it? Oh god I’m so sorry.** _

_**But - I was just wondering if you’d like to go to dinner next weekend? If you’re not busy or anything. It’s fine if you don’t ... I just think you’re really interesting and I’d like to spend time with you when we aren’t working. But you don’t have to.** _

_**Hi Eita, dinner sounds great. Does Saturday work?** _

His band members crowded over Semi’s shoulder when they heard the response come through. Semi flushed furiously as they jostled his shoulders and told him to reply before he lost his chance to. Hoping he sounded casual and not absolutely over the moon, he replied as fast as he feasibly could.

_**Saturday is great! I’ll pick you up after work :)** _

"And for the record, no. I will _not_ write a song about taking her to dinner." Semi pointed out, pocketing his phone and looking away from his bandmates.


End file.
